


Some Folk We Never Forget

by TJ_73



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo Baggins & Bofur Friendship, Bofur is a Sweetheart, Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 13:58:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13125153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TJ_73/pseuds/TJ_73
Summary: Happy Hobbit Holiday! Hope you enjoy it :)





	Some Folk We Never Forget

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RarePairFairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RarePairFairy/gifts).



“You doing alright over there?” Bofur called, swinging his pickaxe into the nearest orc.

 

“I’d be better if I didn’t have to watch both my back and yours,” Dwalin yelled back.

“That’s not very nice,” Bofur replied, taking down another orc.

“If you two would stop your bloody bickering we’d be having dinner by now,” Gandalf interrupted just as Thorin plunged his sword into the last living orc on the field and the rest of the company breathed a sigh of relief. “We make camp on the top of that ridge tonight. Bofur, you’re on first watch.” There was no room for discussion as the company collected their things and headed for the top of the hill, the sky glowing pink and gold in the twilight.

“First watch again. I’m beginning to think the Lord of Silver Fountains doesn’t like me very much,” Bofur said.

“He’s tired. That was the third orc pack we’ve come across in as many days,” Dwalin grunted in response as they fell in step together.

“That’s not my fault!”

Dwalin chuckled, slapping his hand on Bofur’s back and nearly knocked the wind out of him. “Maybe if you weren’t the first to spot them he wouldn’t trust you so much.”

“Are you saying I should be less responsible?” Bofur stopped in his tracks, a wicked grin on his face.

“What? No. No, that’s not what I’m saying at all you-“

“Bofur. Dwalin. Now,” Thorin shouted from a ways up the ridge. They had already fallen behind.

Once the fire was lit and a modest dinner of warm bread, cheese, and cured meat was had, the Dwarves began to doze off one by one. A crescent moon was high in an indigo sky by then as Bofur played his clarinet softly to keep himself awake.

“Bofur?” He heard his name whispered in the dark.

“Yes, Master Baggins? What can I do for you?”

“In the mountains… I-I am sorry for what I said.” Bilbo pressed his hands between his knees where he sat, staring into the fire. “About you not having a home. I shouldn’t have-“

“Think nothing of it, you were right of course. You usually are, you know. I never knew Erebor as Thorin did, never even been there. I’m from the Blue Mountains. My family are miners. But if there is room in the company for a toy maker like me then there’s room for a Took, aye?” He said with a wink. “No, you’ve more than proven yourself. Taking on Azog like that was brave. Stupid, but brave.”

He laughed and Bilbo cracked a smile.

“You’re still feeling homesick, aren’t you?”

Bilbo nodded.

“As I said before, you’re one of us now. I mean it this time. Thorin’s taking a liking to you, and he doesn’t even like me,” he said with a laugh. “Honestly, I don’t know how he does it. It’s near impossible not to like me! But there goes our fearless leader, breaking the odds again.”

“He’s…gruff. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t like you Bofur.” Bilbo looked up at him and Bofur shifted awkwardly.

“Now you best be getting some rest Master Baggins. We’ll be leaving at first light.” He stoked the fire and sent up a cloud of sparks into the air.

“Goodnight Bofur,” Bilbo said with a yawn, laying down and curling up in his bedroll.

Cedars crackled in the fire pit as the night wore on. The moon trailed across the heavens and a soft breeze whispered through the trees. The world was still. The snores of the company and the soft cooing of an owl somewhere in the distance began to lull Bofur to sleep. The hours crawled by until it felt as though the night might never end.  
“Bofur.” A hand on his shoulder startled him awake. “I’m on next watch, get some sleep.”

“Fili…You know better than to startle a Dwarf like that. I could have killed you by accident, for I was so focused on listening for threats and –“. Bofur gave a large yawn and blinked blearily.

“I know,” Fili smiled and clapped him on the shoulder again. “Go, get some rest. It’s a few hours till sun up.”

He nodded and took his blanket and collapsed between Bifur and Bombur, huddling next to his brother for warmth.

In what felt like a half hour the sun was up and there was a boot in his side nudging him awake.

“Unh…make your own breakfast, Bombur,” he mumbled. “There’s…mutton in the pantry. Mm the pantry. Spiders. Spiders in the cellar. Don’t go down there, it’s a trap…”

“Oi, we’re leaving. You coming?”

Bofur blinked awake, blinded by the morning light as it streamed through the trees to cut the fog. Dew had settled over his hat and collected in tiny droplets in his moustache. He glared up at Dwalin who also looked tired and cold. Dew had beaded across the Dwarf’s head and he shuddered as a cold drop slid down his neck.

“Well don’t you look fresh as a daisy,” Bofur mumbled as he got to his feet, stumbling a bit since one of them was still asleep and attempting to roll his blanket back up. Dwalin grunted in response. He finished securing his pack, slung it over his shoulder and pulled his hat off to brush the water off before it soaked through.

“This was my da’s hat,” Bofur said, smoothing down the material. His fingers lingered where the seams had worn through. “I promised to give it back to him when I returned, though I think you could use it more than me this morning.” He smiled and looked up to find that Dwalin was already a dozen paces ahead to catch up with the rest of the company. Bofur glanced around the empty clearing, put his hat back on, and walked after him.

They walked in relative silence throughout the day. Even Gandalf was not his typically cheerful self. The company was beginning to feel weary once again as the relief of having been rescued from Azog by the eagles had worn off. Their provisions from Rivindell were growing thin and their equipment was beginning to show wear. By mid-afternoon they had spotted another orc pack and went out of their way to avoid it, making their progress slow and unproductive.

“You’ve been quiet today,” Dwalin remarked as they took a short break in an outcropping to eat.

“And you’ve been broodier than usual.” Bofur cocked an eyebrow, his mouth full of bread and cheese. “Everything alright?”

A rumble cut through the still evening air and Bilbo came running back toward them.

“How close is the pack?” Thorin demanded, Dwalin already at his side.

“Couple of leagues, no more. But that’s not the worst of it,” the Hobbit said panting.

“The Wargs picked up our scent?”

“Not yet, but they will. We have another problem.”

“Did they see you? They saw you.” Gandalf’s expression grew grave.

“No, that’s not it,” Bilbo said, still catching his breath.

“See, what did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse,” Gandalf said. The company began to agree with him, but their faces fell when Bilbo demanded they listen.

“I’m trying to tell you there is something else out there,” he said, pointing back the way he had come.

“What form did it take? Like a bear?” If possible, Gandalf’s face grew even more concerned.

Bofur’s head snapped around to look at him.

“Y-Yes. But bigger, much bigger.”

“You knew about this beast?” Bofur asked, his eyes narrowed at the wizard. “I say we double back.”

“We’ll be run down by a pack of orcs,” Thorin said. The company erupted in mumbles of agreement. Bofur shoved his hands in his pockets, turning when Gandalf spoke again.

“There is a house.”

With that they were sprinting across the countryside, outrunning not only the orc pack but the great bear as well. Bofur kept a careful eye on Bombur and Dwalin to ensure they kept pace, though his brother was quickly passing the lot of them. Despite the fact he was out of breath and fading fast, Bofur laughed as Bombur was the first to the door of the house. They piled inside in a panic as the beast bounded toward them in unnaturally large strides and within moments had its muzzle jammed between the door and the frame, snarling and roaring. With a final great push the door closed and an eerie silence fell as the beast wandered off, its heavy footfalls growing distant until nothing but the soft sounds of the animals inside could be heard. Gandalf suggested they get some sleep.

Bofur was still attempting to catch his breath as he caught Dwalin’s eye. The dwarf was doubled over, hands on his knees looking more pale than he had any right to be. “Are you alright?” Bofur asked. Dwalin’s eyes went glassy before he collapsed into a pile of hay.

“No no no,” Bofur muttered, rushing to his side. Everyone else seemed concerned with investigating their surroundings and no one appeared to notice. Bofur leaned against a wooden post on his knees, holding Dwalin and trying to keep his head up. He was fully unconscious now, sweating beading on his forehead.

“Come on, stay with me,” Bofur pleaded, searching Dwalin for any sign of injuries that might have caused his sudden fainting spell. His hand found a wet spot in the coat on Dwalin’s side, peeling it back to find the fabric slick and dark with blood. Bofur’s eyes went wide as he pulled the shirt up to find an angry wound on the dwarf’s side, the blood clotted around rough edges. It had been there for a while. “You fool,” he breathed.

Bofur rummaged around in his pack for a clean blanket and tore it into strips. He cleaned away the dried blood and marvelled at how raw the wound looked.  
The rest of the company had already begun to doze off as the sun set and he did his best to be quiet. Bofur looked around at a loss for what to use to disinfect Dwalin’s wound when he noticed a bee the size of his nose flying lazily overhead. His eyes followed it as it found its way back to a large wooden box near the wall that was alive with buzzing. Perfect. He crept over quietly and found a removable panel on the box, pulling it up to find the comb dripping with amber honey. Despite the bees still clinging to it he broke off a chunk and shoved the panel back inside the box, suffering several stings to his hand as he brushed the angry creatures off.

“You better survive this you old fool,” he cursed Dwalin under his breath as he crushed the comb in his hands and pasted across the cut. He wasn’t much of a medic, but Bofur had treated a few of his brother’s cuts and bruises before and he found honey to be an exceptional antiseptic. Dwalin stirred a little, grunting in his sleep. Bofur tied off a few strips of the blanket as a bandage and sat down with his back against the post with Dwalin leaned against him. In a matter of minutes he was asleep.

Bofur awoke in the night from a dreamless sleep to find Dwalin upright and still asleep with his head on Bofur’s shoulder. “You alive?” he nudged him. Dwalin sputtered awake slowly, his eyes still a little glazed over. “You’re an idiot, you know that? If you’re going to hide things like that at least know how to take care of them.” Bofur sounded angry, but he was more hurt than anything. And tired from worrying.

“Aye, I’ll keep that in mind,” Dwalin mumbled. “What would I do without you?” He leaned his head back on Bofur’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

“Probably die,” Bofur said with a smile, wrapping his arms around Dwalin’s shoulders and leaning into him as he fell back asleep.

Early morning light slowly streamed into the house before the sun rose, dust motes sparkling like stars as they floated through the air. Bofur’s eyes fluttered open and he sat up quickly to look for Dwalin only to find his head had been resting on the dwarf’s chest.

“Mm, what’s happening?” Dwalin asked, his eyes not quite open yet as his hand found Bofur’s shoulder. The colour already seemed to be returning to his face. Bofur sighed happily and laid back down, feeling Dwalin’s arm around him tighten.

“Nothing, go back to sleep,” he said.

It was late morning when Bofur was awakened again. The company was already awake and moving around, soft conversation filling the air. He was curled up in the hay as Dwalin sat next to him cleaning his wound and changing the bandage.

“Is this honey?” he asked when he saw Bofur wake.

“It was for the infection. Honey has more uses than just in your cake you know.”

“My honey cake is delicious,” Dwalin replied, indignant.

“Then you should try not to die so you can make me some when this is all over,” Bofur said, stretching and sitting up. He brushed the loose straw from his clothes and reached for the bandages in Dwalin’s hands. “Let me do it, I can’t trust you anymore.” He laughed and so did Dwalin.

“I’m not a child, I can- Oi, watch it.” Dwalin flinched as Bofur dabbed at the wound. It already looked a lot less red and had healed at the edges.

“You can’t ignore things like this and expect them to go away,” he said more gently this time, replacing the bandage and tying it. “When did you get this? From that fight with the orcs a few days ago?

Dwalin nodded. “It wasn’t bad enough to trouble you with. You worry too much about me.”

Bofur met his eyes and was silent for a moment. “You always have my back. It’s the least I could do.”

There seemed to be some commotion outside and they all stood, looking for direction from Gandalf. As the company descended into hushed muttering Thorin pulled Dwalin aside.

“Do I want to know what’s going on?” he asked, fixing that intense stare at Dwalin.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I want you to keep an eye on Bofur, he…hasn’t been himself these past few days. I need him at his best just as I need you at yours.”

“It’s dealt with, Thorin. There is nothing to worry about.” Dwalin returned the stare, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest.

“You are the closest person to him besides his brother. All I’m asking is that you don’t hurt him. He’s a valuable member of this company, as are you, and you two need to look after one another. He’s been worried about you for two days.” Thorin rested his hand on Dwalin’s shoulder and the taller dwarf relaxed.

“I understand.”

“Good. Now go ask him how he is,” Thorin said with a smile and slapped Dwalin on the back.

Dwalin gave Thorin a dark look and found Bofur in the uneasiness of the company. “Thank you.”

Bofur looked up to see Dwalin. The expression on his face was one of confusion. “What for?”

“For worrying about me,” Dwalin said, his hard features cracking into a soft smile as he put an arm around Bofur’s shoulders.


End file.
